Tourism, Tears and Murder
by Bmangaka
Summary: A car squealed around the corner. And then three things happened simultaneously. The tinted windows rolled down. The guns went off with a flash and a deafening bang. And the girl on the beach was suddenly all alone.
1. Loneliness

**Hello! I'm Bmangaka, and this is my new story. I'm not too sure about it, so critisism will be greatly apprieciated. Flamers are pathetic little fools who subject other people's happiness to their lonliness and upset.**

**Don't own!!**

The hot sun of Miami shone down upon the holiday makers on the packed beach. The marble sands making the most fair of complexions look healthy and bronze.

A family of three sat, near the curb, on towels, giggling and laughing. The two carbon copy women looked slyly at one and another, before launching at the man in blue khaki shorts.

"Oh, ladies!" The man said through his laughter. "How very impolite of you! At least by me a drink first!" He turned to the visibly older woman and kissed her hand. "Does your mother know you are out, darling?"

"Dad!" The young girl exclaimed, the laughter in her eyes obvious. "You are being such a snob!"

The man in question raised his nose to the air and the girls doubled over with laughter. They wiped the tears from their eyes and sat up a little straighter, looking out at the sea, the youngest face pensive.

"Don't worry so much! Relax a little." The mother said. "You'll do fine." The two adults stood up.

"Would you like an ice cream, to help you _chill_?" The father asked with a smile.

The smile was returned. "Sure. I'll stay with the stuff." The girl replied.

The couple linked arms and walked lazily away.

A car squealed around the corner.

And then three things happened simultaneously.

The tinted windows rolled down.

The guns went off with a flash and a deafening bang.

And the girl on the beach was suddenly all alone.

* * *

Horatio Caine stepped out of his department issue hummer; suit straight, expression blank.

"What have we got, Eric?"

The muscular Cuban stood up and pointed towards two bodies on the pavement. "Sarah and Michael Conway. Tourists, here from Britain. Their only daughter's over there." He turned and pointed towards a teenager facing the sea, her shoulders hunched.

"You talked to her yet?" Horatio questioned. Eric's head shook disappointedly.

"No-one's gotten two words outta her. We were hoping you could, H."

H smiled ruefully. His reputation with children preceded him. Walking across the pavement, the cement clicking under his shoes. Sitting next to her, the first thing he noticed was her vivid red hair.

"My name's… Horatio Caine. And I'm trying to help you. Will you let me?" He said gently.

The girl wiped the tears from her cheeks with her pale hand. "You shouldn't sit down. You'll ruin your suit. And since no-one in America seems to own an iron or washing machine, it would be costly and a disaster." She said in her thick British accent. Horatio bit back a smile.

"I know this will be hard. But can you tell me what happened?"

The girl's eyes brimmed with tears again, and the lieutenant felt instantly guilty. "My Mum and Dad said they were going to get us an ice cream…" The tears threatened to overflow, but the girl dutifully stayed strong. "And then there was a tire screech, and the gunshots and….and….and…." The tears came thick and strong now.

Horatio put his arms around the slim shaking shoulders, holding her, supporting her as the sobs subsided into nothingness. Then he remembered he didn't know her name.

"Sweetheart, what's your name?" He said, feeling the head resting on his shoulder.

"Beila Hope Conway." She said quietly.

"It's a beautiful name… How old are you?" He probed again.

"Fifteen. I turn sixteen soon though." She said, obviously trying to make the point that she wasn't just some child. Horatio smiled despite himself, he'd been just like that at that age; mind defiant that he wasn't young, that he could take care of himself.

"I want you to go with this policewoman," he pointed towards the female uniform a few metres away. "So you can get some things from your hotel room, then come back to the crime lab…and I…will see you there." The girl nodded mutely in response and stood, dusting sand off her long tunic.

Eric walked towards H.

"Please tell me she's not a mute."

"She is not Eric…..She is just a scared child." Horatio sighed. He always hated cases that involved children. "Her name…Is Beila, and she's fifteen." He took his sunglasses of and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Beila…." Eric said. "It's a Jewish name, from Russia." A department issue hummer drove up, followed by a Medical van.

"The brigade is here!" The blonde woman called as she stepped out, turning to the African American woman next to her, eyebrows raised at the sombre mood at the scene.

"What happened here, Horatio?" Alexx questioned in her motherly tone as she set down near the bodies.

"At around noon, a car turned the corner there," He paused pointing at the corner the car had turned earlier. "And shot at the ice cream hut there," He paused, pointing at the other landmark in question. "And killed two tourists. Now ladies and gentlemen, we have a teenager, all alone, and in a foreign country…..let's get this one wrapped up as soon as possible."

"Horatio." A voice from behind said, turning around the team saw Det. Jake Berkeley.

"Detective." Horatio acknowledged, nodding his head slightly.

"All accounts are the same. Our vics went to the shack, the car came-black with tinted windows-window rolled down, guns went off, and what's done is done." He finished, flipping his notebook shut.

"But…" Horatio started, placing his sunglasses back on his face, "It's not over yet."

**Okay, so probably the worst one liner in the history of CSI, but tell me what you think!**

**Bmangaka out!**


	2. The Star in The Night

The trip in the patrol car was silent and dragged on forever. Beila rode the elevator in silence, the uniform at her side silently appraising her the entire time. She slid the key card into the side of door, and it chirped cheerfully.

Beila didn't feel very cheerful. She felt the tears rising in her eyes again, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to breathe. She could see the clothes that her mother had told her to tidy away before she'd met them at the beach, something in her haste she hadn't done.

The diary her mother wrote in religiously was perched on the side, something she'd never thought of reading. She picked it up, and threw it in the bag with the other bare essentials. Then, she reached for her parents' wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of her father's boxer shorts, and a t-shirt she knew her mother had commandeered many years ago, it had NYPD blazoned across it. She'd never gotten to the bottom of that mystery, and now, she never would.

* * *

Everyone was focused on this case. Tourist cases always put pressure on the department, but with this one, they had a _child_ survivor.

The girl with the red hair entered the crime lab, uniform at her side; strange looks were past ahead of her, looks of sympathy towards her. Dressed neatly in her nineteen-fifty's style flared pinafore and dolly shoes: maybe she was drawing a little _too_ much attention. She knew that people in Miami probably didn't wear clothes like hers, but in Miami, people didn't seem to wear much-period.

"Miss Conway." Horatio said as he walked up to them-Beila and the uniform, that is.

"Lieutenant." She nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Nice to see you again."

Horatio silently appraised the girl, noting that she was casting a veil over her grief and pushing it away, to be dealt with later, in private. He smiled mentally at the strength; the girl had been raised well, and her parents should have been proud. He gestured to the seats just behind him, and nodded for the uniform to get back to her other duties.

"How…..are you holding up?" Horatio asked his voice as gentle as always. The smile on the girls face was rueful.

"As well as can be expected," She paused, taking in a deep breath. "Did they…Did my parents suffer?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure they didn't suffer, Beila."

Some tears escaped her eyes, as she angrily rubbed them away with the heel of her hand. She was not going to cry. Not here, not when she knew that the people here must have suffered some sort of loss too.

* * *

Horatio smiled at the bravery and placed an open hand on her shoulder. "Can you wait here for me?"

The girl managed a mute nod as Horatio stood up and headed for the lifts.

The morgue was as quiet as ever, the only noise being that of Alexx talking to the dead.

"Horatio." Alexx said warmly. "Come to talk about my newest angels?" She said, stroking the dark hair of Michael Conway.

"That I have….Alexx."

"They died almost instantly, Horatio, poor babies didn't know what hit them."

"Were they wearing any trinkets?" Horatio asked. Alexx sighed inwardly; she should've known this was going to happen.

"Well apart from their wedding rings, there was the engagement ring….and this." Alexx paused as she picked up the necklace. "The Star of David."

"She was Jewish, Alexx."

"Are you thinking a hate crime?" Alexx asked, shocked.

"No, the crime……wasn't aimed at the Conway's……..The crime was aimed, at the ice cream hut." Horatio pulled out his cell pone, and pressed speed dial.

* * *

"So what are you looking for? 'Cos I ain't done nothing! I di'n't have nothing to do with those murders. Hey, your warrant doesn't cover there!" The owner of the shack said, storming over to the freezer where Calleigh was currently pulling the crates of ice cream out, and placing them on the floor.

"On the contrary, Mr. Rodriguez. It covers everything in this hut. Now if you aren't going to let me do my job, then I will have Det. Berkeley take you to booking for obstruction."

Well, that shut him up. Horatio stood up from the freezer he was searching.

"Mr. Rodriguez, are you supplying drugs to anyone?" He asked, hands on hips, eyes boring into the suspect.

"What!?" The man spluttered out. "Hell no!"

Horatio held up the evidence bag in his hand. "Really, because there's too much heroin here for it to simply be possession." He looked at the Spaniard. "Book him."


	3. Red Headed Ferocity

**Don't own, obviously.....**

**Thanks to all my awesome reveiwers!! Cookies for you!**

Horatio walked down the corridors of the lab, bathing slightly in the setting sun, and turned into trace.

"Mr. Wolfe." He said, in his ever-expectant tone. Ryan's head shot up from the microscope he was looking at.

"Um, yeah. Results on the heroin, same as the kind they pulled from the raid last week." Ryan handed over the piece of paper.

"And that there, is motive."

Horatio walked off to interrogation

"Mr. Rodriguez. You were skimming heroin off the Mala Noche; weren't you?" Horatio asked, looking out of the window, hands on hips.

"Nah. Who'd be that stupid?" Rodriguez dismissively spun on his chair.

"You see, Mr. Rodriguez, that's not true, now; is it?" Horatio asked again, turning to face him.

Calleigh, who had been simply sitting and observing the suspect, placed two graphs on the table.

"Mr. Rodriguez," She started, "y'all aren't understanding the severity of the situation. You were skimming drugs off the Mala Noche!"

"So you got the mules over here from Mexico, promising them a better life here; gave some of the drugs to the Mala Noche and offered the rest to the highest bidder. And no-one would ever suspect it." Horatio mused.

"But you didn't think they'd figure it out, did you?" Calleigh added.

"I ain't saying nothing till I see my lawyer." Rodriguez spat.

"You don't need to." Horatio waved in the uniform at the door. "Take him to booking please."

She was right where Horatio had left her before interrogation. Sitting in the break room, reading a book. Horatio could feel the envelope in his pocket as he walked in.

"Beila." The girl looked up at him and smiled a little. "What are you reading?" He gestured to the nameless book in her hands.

"My mother's diary." She smiled even wider. "She had quite the sense of humour."

Horatio sat next to her, curious to what she meant.

"There's one thing she's written, about the time she lived in New York, it says: 'New York, the place where they shall surely find a way to run a car on coffee.'" She paused, turning the page. A small photograph fell out. Being curious, Beila turned it over.

She nearly died of shock at that moment of time. She quickly hid it from the detective, who she knew had probably already seen it, just not all of it.

"Beila," Horatio started, and the girl turned and smiled at him. He reached inside his pocket and took out the small envelope, edging it towards her.

"What's this?" She asked, eyes filled with a childlike curiosity. The tinkle of metal was what greeted her as she tipped the contents into her hand. Horatio saw the look that came onto her face as she recognised the items.

"The….my Mother's…Wha….How….?"

"It wasn't relevant to the case, and you know….Sometimes, having something is good for you. It helps us to move on."

Beila held the necklace up to the light and fastened the clasp around her neck, gently touching the star as it glinted in the evening glow. "You know, I never saw my mother without this, and Grandma said that Mum got it when she was born. It's even in her wedding pictures. She always said…." She broke off again, tears constricting her throat.

"Cry if you need to." Horatio said his arms around her shoulder again. The girl indignantly shook it off and wiped the tears away ferociously.

"No." She stated firmly. "Everybody hurts, pain is a part of life, and I cannot allow it to rule me." More tears came, flowing down her face as Horatio simply took her in an embrace.

"Shh, it's okay, shh…" He comforted, rocking the grieving child, because essentially, that's what the girl was: merely a child, in a situation no-one wants to visit. There was a gentle rap on the door, and both occupants of the break room snapped their heads up. Beila wiped her eyes again.

And there it was, glaring at her like some kind of cardinal sin, begging her to cry, to let it all out.

And Beila had simply had enough. She stood up sharply, eyes dark with anger.

"For God's sake! I don't need your bloody _sympathy_!" She barged through the door and past the very startled lab tech, and ran through the corridors and out of the lab.

"Beila!" Horatio called, and barged past the lab tech, again. Reaching the doors of the lab, he cast a frantic look around the parking lot, pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Det. Berkeley's phone number.


	4. The Magic Vanishes At Midnight

Sorry I haven't updated in forever, but with christmas and such; life's been a bit hetic! Reveiew s'il vous plait, onegai shimasu, por favor, please!!

"Uni's haven't found anything.A few witnesses that say they might have seen her, no-one at the scene or hotel room. She's just vanished."

"She'll have to get food or money sometime, and then we'll find her, boss."

"That we will, Det. Berkeley."

Beila walked down the street, not really knowing or caring where she went. The faces and fashions a blur, an unknown quantity of steps, to take her to a final destination.

The patrol cop rubbed his eyes wearily. He'd been working since the night before, and was absolutely shattered, his eyes were beginning to play tricks on him, because he was sure he'd just seen the murder victim that had been wheeled away from here earlier this morning. Good thing for Beila, he hadn't been listening to his radio.

Beila's blue eyes silently viewed the scene from where she was standing. The beach, with its white sand and impossibly blue ocean; the sidewalk's grey stones; the dark red blood.

Tears ran salty tracks down Beila's cheeks, as she let herself cry.

Lieutenant Caine went through the paper work he had found in the Conway's hotel room and dialled the number for next of kin. The family had already been contacted, but Horatio wanted to ask a few questions.

The phone rang maybe twice before it was picked up. "Hello? Conway Residence, Michael Conway Sr. talking."

"Sir? I'm Lieutenant Horatio Caine, with the MDPD crime lab. I just have some questions to ask."

"Please, call me Michael. Are you any closer to finding Mike and Sarah's killer yet?" The voice sounded weary through the phone line.

"No, Michael; I'm sorry for your loss. But I need to know if Michael and Sarah had any friends or acquaintances at all in America."

"Lieutenant your sympathy is greatly appreciated. Michael never really went to America, apart from once when he was a child, but Sarah lived in America for a year in university. I know for a fact that Beila's father lives there somewhere."

Horatio raised his eyebrows at the statement. "Mr Conway was not the father of his wife's daughter?"

"No." The voice at the end of the phone line said. "Michael and Sarah met when she was a month along. But he really didn't care, and he loved her so much." The voice cracked at the end of the sentence. "They got married two months later. I thought at the time that it was a shotgun wedding, and that Sarah was just getting any man to please her family. But, God, I argued with Mikey over that, and he maintained that it felt right. And Mikey was very right."

"Did Beila know about this?"

"Yes, in fact, she figured it out herself. She took it a lot better than we all thought she would. She said, if I remember correctly: that she had shared thirteen years with her Dad and only twenty-three chromosomes with her biological father. She is an old soul, Lieutenant."

"Please call me Horatio. Did Sarah ever tell you about Beila's father?"

"A little, when we had cleared up the bitterness. But all we ever really found out was that he was a fling, but I suspect that it may have been a little more than that, and that he worked in some sort of enforcement. May have been either the fire or police departments. So maybe then you will find his DNA on a national database, by comparing it to Beila's for a familial match." Horatio had to admit that he was a little taken aback by the knowledge shown by this person.

"Yes we can. Now, this has nothing to do with questioning, but how to you know that we can do that?" Horatio, a man of great intelligence, was intrigued.

"My little scientist genius taught me, said I was the smartest Granddad she knew. Granted, Bill and Edna died three years previous to that, so she made sure to point out that she really had no other evidence to make the comparison to." The man on the end chuckled, and Horatio found himself smiling at the comments.

"Do you know what led to this trip to the US?" Horatio was asking the questions professionally again now.

"Ah, yes. Well, earlier this month, Beila finished her GCSEs. This was Sarah and Michael's surprise congratulation present. My grandchild does tend to get rather stressed and bottled up." The man sighed in a fatherly way.

"Well, I thank you for your time…"

"It really was no problem. And if you do find Beila's father, tell him that he needs to look after my son's little girl."

"Sir, are you handing over custody of your grandchild to a man you have never met?" Horatio was surprised at the man's trust.

"Well, young man, where I come from, there is hardly a more honourable job than one which involves endangering one's life for the safety of others, and he who does such a job, must be a fine and upstanding gentleman. Plus, Horatio, my wife and I will not be here forever, and when we are gone, Beila will need a guiding hand."

"Thank you very much, Sir," Horatio said at the indirect compliment, "if you ever wish to talk, do not hesitant to pick up the phone and dial my number, it is on day or night."

"Good night, Lieutenant." The father said as he hung up.

Horatio went for the bag Beila had packed, and found it contained the normal essentials for a teenage girl. A phone and an iPod, but there was the item, at the bottom, concealed within her toiletries, a hairbrush. Letting the dying sun glint off the hair, he saw that he could see a few hairs on the brush with tags, which could be used for DNA comparison. He headed to DNA to have a little chat with Valera.

Detective Berkeley rubbed his eyes wearily; this girl had just managed to vanish off the face of the planet, in a city crawling with law enforcement officers. If they didn't find her soon, then this was going to become a missing child case, and the FBI would get involved. And Berkeley hated the Feds.

At the moment, he was currently canvassing the sidewalks that lead away from the crime lab. He'd just met a very consistent stream of witnesses that said that they had seen a girl of Miss Conway's description, and that she seemed agitated and upset. He followed the chain of witnesses and found himself about one hundred metres from the crime scene. And then he heard it. At first he had just assumed that it was the crinkle of the leaves in the air, and the stress of the job, but then he heard it again, a sniffing noise. He edged himself closer, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. Getting closer, he could see the girl he'd been looking for sat on the grass verge, the skirt of her pinafore spread around her like she had just fallen there and crying like Cinderella after the ball. And then, just as he was close enough to reach her, the ultimate cliché: he snapped a twig under his foot.

The girl's head immediately snapped up. Watery blue orbs looked at him, so very reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights, as she jerked upright and bolted.

"Wait! Miss! Wait!" He hollered as he followed her through the bushes and onto the street. He indicated to a uniform that he could see a few metres away-who had, coincidentally been looking for the girl himself- and the uniform dutifully blocked the child's way.

"Miss, you have no idea how long we've been looking for you." The uniform said patiently.

"Well done, Thompson." Berkeley congratulated as he gulped the air around him greedily. The girl looked up at the uniform, eyes watery, cheeks flushed and panting, before struggling herself free.

"I do not need your sympathy. What happened, happened. And I need to deal with that. It is not a burden that everyone else needs to acknowledge!" She ranted. "I need to deal…" She trailed off as tears started to flow again.

"C'mon, let's get you back to the lab, hey." Berkeley said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder and leading her towards where the uniform's squad car was.

The young girl from the crime scene had become quite the celebrity at the crime lab. Everybody knew who she was, and everyone wanted to see her. In fact, this was the fourth time Horatio had had a female member of the team step into his office for a stapler or paperclips or a piece of filing that needed to be dropped off. Although this knock on the door was different.

"Horatio, honey." The woman said quietly at the door.

"Alexx." Horatio returned the smile before looking back to his paperwork.

Alexx took this unsaid permission and stepped in, kneeling on the floor by the couch where the young girl was sleeping. "You sleep, baby." She started softly, stroking the girl's hair gently. "You dream good dreams and happy memories, for me to see you in the morning." She said, standing up and nodding to Horatio as she walked out of the door.


	5. A New Start

Heya!!! Sorry I've been gone so long, I've been really busy with my GCSEs!! I promise to try and get this uploaded more! Toodles! I don't own anything, and if I did, Beila would be in CSI already!

Beila woke up, and sat there, slightly disorientated. Where on Earth was she? She rubbed her eyes to banish the sleep, and then it all came back, the beach the shots; the bodies. Beila could feel herself choking up again.

"Good morning." Said a voice behind her. She wheeled her head around to see the other red head.

"Morning?" Ah, yes, she was at the lab.

"Yep. I got you some breakfast, so if you want, you can use the showers in the locker room, and then eat some food, and we can have a little chat." Horatio said. Beila just nodded mutely and collected her stuff. "Second on the left." He directed, as the girl walked past him.

The shower made Beila feel more human, like she was washing away the pain a little, like she was shedding this weight as she reflected on her situation. Horatio would find out soon enough. She'd have to tell him about the photo.

Horatio sat in his office, the paper in his hands glaring at him. Surely, it wasn't right. But there was less than a one in a million chance that it was wrong. Horatio rubbed his brow, first it was Kyle, eighteen years ago. And now Beila, nearly seventeen years ago. And he'd been so mad at his brother over Madison. God, wasn't he just a hypocrite.

Beila stepped out of the locker room, her wet hair pulled back from her face in a French plait. She saw someone walk past, and knew she had to say something.

"Excuse me, Sir!" She called. The man in question turned around, and pointed to himself.

"Me?" He said incredulously, as he walked towards her. "Whadda you want?" He asked gruffly.

"I wanted to apologise, Sir. I shouldn't have run yesterday, and because I did, you wasted your time looking for me." Beila apologised.

"'s okay, kid. The name's Berkeley, not Sir." He said with his lopsided grin.

"Do you know where I can find the other police officer who I met yesterday? I'd like to offer my thanks."

"He's over at the PD. But I can pass the message on, if you'd like." The girl nodded her head and went back to Horatio's office.

"Beila," He greeted her. "Have a seat, eat some food."

"Thanks." She said, sitting and reaching for a bottle of orange juice and a muffin. "You mentioned that you wanted to talk? What about?"

"I talked to your Grandfather yesterday, and he mentioned your biological father. He also handed custody to him, when we find him."

Beila sat in mute shock. She was staying in America? With a man who she didn't know?

"Lieutenant, when I was reading my mother's diary, I found a photo, laying between two pages from when she was in New York." Horatio nodded his head in understanding. Beila drew in a deep breath and pulled the small photo from her back pocket, and handed it to Horatio. "That was taken two weeks before she returned home, and found out she was pregnant with me." Horatio observed the photo with scrutiny; the two redheaded people were very familiar.

"Sarah Komalov." He said slowly. How could he have forgotten her?

"Horatio," Started Beila. "_You_ are my father."

Horatio felt very detached, like this was a surreal dream. But it wasn't. It was very true. The next two words fell easily from his lips.

"I know."

It had been nearly three days since the murder and Calleigh had just struck gold on the Conway case. She'd just got a hit off the bullet. She practically ran to Horatio's office to tell him. She bounded in, noticing after that Horatio and the victims' child were in a deep conversation.

"Sorry, I didn't know I'd interrupt something." She apologised. "I got a hit off the bullet, there was a preserved fingerprint: a felon in Calle Ocho. Convicted in '95 of murder one."

"Take Berkeley to his apartment and get him. Get a warrant for the gun, but it's probably somewhere in the Pacific by now."

"K boss." Calleigh drawled. Walking out of the door, she cast a look back at the two redheaded people sat on the couch in her boss's office.

Horatio viewed his daughter through the glass of his office and felt so proud and happy. Similar to the way that he had when Kyle had given himself in.

"Beila." He started, and his daughter looked up from her mother's diary. "It's over. We got him." He saw the tears rising in her eyes. "Now, I've talked to some lawyers who have confirmed that you have a green card, so we don't need to worry about and legal ramifications."

"Thanks, Dad." The silence that followed the sentence was deafening. Horatio couldn't believe his ears, had he heard right?

"Did….you?" Horatio shook his head. Surely he heard wrong.

"Yes, Dad. I did. What's the point of lying? You are _my father_ and I am not afraid to say that. You are a brave man, Dad." Beila paused. "I know some may view this as disrespect to Michael, but I think it would be best for me to accept that he and Mum are gone, and I need…I need…" She broke off in tears again. Horatio pulled his daughter into a hug, and said something that would make any young girl smile.

"You have a brother." He said, and he felt the head lift from his chest and blue eyes stare up at him in disbelief.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yeah, called Kyle." Horatio answered, with hesitation. "Maybe you can meet him someday." Beila decided not to let the mood be dampened by persistent questions. She broke the hug and dried her tears. A knock came at the door and a pretty woman in a suit was stood there. Beila didn't remember seeing her over the last few days, though they had been hectic. So far, due to the fact that it had taken several days to get anything that sounded like a confession out of her parents' murderer, no-one knew of the relation between the two.

"Lieutenant," She started with a nod of her dark head.

"Miss Nevins…..to what do I owe this pleasure?" Horatio asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about the Conway case, and about social services taking the child." She said in a self assured manner. She was a very confident woman; Beila could tell from the sofa that she was used to getting her own way, and that she had some sort of personal relationship with her father.

"That……won't be necessary. We have found a family member in the States who will legally care for her." Horatio countered. Nevins looked slightly unnerved by the sharp tone that her ex was speaking in.

"Well, do you know who this family member is?" Nevins said, with an acidic tone. Beila was tired of being left out of this conversation. It was about her, after all. She stood up and cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm staying with my biological father, Miss Nevins. And I will live with him permanently when I have returned the bodies of my parents to Britain." Beila said patiently, hurt reflecting in her eyes.

"I need to know who it is, as a factor to the case. If I need to contact you about the case, I will need his information." Nevins pushed for information.

"Well, then I guess you'll have a hard time finding that information if I don't tell you." Beila answered back with a typical teenage smirk.

"This isn't a game, Miss Conway, two people are dead." Rebecca spat.

Tears gathered quickly in Beila's eyes. "You think I don't know that?!" She shouted. "You think I didn't see my parents die?! That I didn't hear the guns being fired and the screams; smelled the burning rubber?!" Tears ran down her face as Horatio's closest friends gathered at the door, wondering what the noise was. "You think I don't wish with all my heart that I could have them back?! To hear my mother laugh and scold my father for being the little sod that he could be?! Do you not think that for every moment that my heart beats and my parents' stay still that I don't wish that I had said……That I had said no to the stupid ice cream, this stupid holiday?!" She continued to scream. "Do you not think I know that my parents are dead and gone and cold and that I can never have them back?" Her voice quietened to a whisper. "You may see them as a file, a pile of well written evidence, statistics, and another notch in your lawyering belt. But to me, they were real people, who didn't deserve to die." Her argument subsided into more sobs, as Horatio turned her around and enveloped her in yet another embrace.

"Shh…It's alright…..It's fine….It'll be fine…" He repeated, whilst shooting poignant looks at the lawyer stood in his office.

The next noises were muffled by the girl's head being hidden in their boss's chest, but the team were pretty sure of one word: Dad.

They couldn't have heard right, could they? She didn't just call Horatio Dad. Surely it was just some emotional coping device, that the girl was merely confused.

And with the team confused, they went back to their jobs in the lab.


	6. Tease Tease

**Hey, I know that this chapter is mostly filler, but it does play an important part in this story!!! Please review, even though I'm not exactly the most eliable of uploaders!! (I'm in the middle of my GCSEs, so I have very little time to myself!!!) Kudos and cookies to reviewers!!!**

"Horatio." Calleigh started, knocking on the door of his office quietly. Horatio looked up at his beloved team, congregated at the door.

"Hello….Is there something you want to talk to me about?" Horatio asked, looking directly at each team member as they filed into his office.

"Boss," Horatio's brother in law started. "We know that you ran the girl's DNA through CODIS, and got a match. But Valera wouldn't tell us who he was."

The door of the office swung open; and stood there, dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, canvas shoes and a t-shirt which said 'It's a girl's world… Boys just live in it' was the very girl they had been talking about. "I'm all packed…..Horatio." She said, pausing mid sentence when she saw they had company. Then raised her eyebrows at the congregation gathered in her father's office. "Am I interrupting something?" She asked, suddenly flustered about her lack of manners.

Her father just smiled his muted grin at her. "No, actually, you're just in time. Beila," He paused, pointing to Eric. "This is my brother in law, Eric, and my team and good friends, Natalia, Calleigh, and Ryan." He pointed to each person as he introduced them.

"Ah," The girl paused, bowing her head. "I was beginning to think you were all fictional!" She laughed.

"They actually came here to ask you who your father was….." Horatio paused. There was a visible smirk on the girl's face as she opened her mouth.

"Well, Uncle Eric." She paused, taking great delight in the confusion on her uncle's face. She then burst into very adolescent giggles. "Dad……I can't… take this…..It's so funny!" She managed in between giggles.

"Well…..there is your answer." Horatio sat back in his chair, fingers linked lazily on his lap. Eric was the first on to regain the power of speech. He was across the room in a heartbeat, as he took the small girl into a hug and looked poignantly at his boss.

"I'm an uncle!!" He laughed, stroking the girl's hair as he rocked her from side to side. He pulled her out of the hug and viewed her at an arms length. "So….Do you like to swim? Cause we got a lot of areas around here where I can teach you to dive……If you don't know already, that is." He added with renewed enthusiasm.

"You didn't tell us you had a daughter, Horatio!" Calleigh scolded in her southern drawl, grin on her face as always.

"He didn't know." Beila answered. "Mum didn't tell him." She finished sadly, noticing the atmosphere in the room had skydived like a lead balloon without a parachute. "So Dad," She started with a cheeky grin. "Is there anyone else? Because you said that your team was fairly large: and I know that men are prone to exaggeration, but this is a little extreme!"

Horatio threw a reprimanding look at his teenage daughter, with a grin fixed on his face, a real smile, like he would smile with Marisol. "There's your aunt: Yelina, who we work with occasionally, and Sergeant Tripp, who you will probably meet soon, and Alexx, our ME." He finished.

"So, do you like to shop, 'cause me and Natalia can go and get you a whole new wardrobe!" Calleigh smiled, finally over the shock that Horatio now had two children. Beila feigned a look of shock, but failed through the laughter at the calculating look on the woman's face.

"I'll have you know that this is fashionable in Britain!" She said with a grin.

"Yeah, but you're part of Miami now!" Natalia grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Yeah, and one cannot be away from one's fashion!" Ryan quipped in the worst British accent that Beila thought she'd ever heard.

"That was _awful_!" Beila exclaimed.


	7. Drizzle

**OK people, this is it, this is the last chapter of TT but it won't be the last time you see Beila..... In fact, if you look on my profile pretty soon, you should find the sequel (which I'm trying to name.....) It's a CSI:NY story, and then after that's done, (If I get my butt in gear) there should be another one, with Beila after college......**

**I don't own CSI. Unfortunately.**

**R&R please people!!!**

Beila stepped into the terminal and glanced around. And there, standing with a bunch of roses in his hand, was her Grandfather.

"Grandpa!" She cried, launching herself at him, and wrapping her arms around his waist. Michael Conway Sr. smiled a weary smile, and reached his arms across her shoulders.

"It's good to have you home, sweetheart." He said, in between kissing her hair and squeezing the life out of her. "Oh," He started, as he finally let her out of the hug. He made a grand show as he presented her flowers to her. "For the young lady." He finished.

"Oh, Grandpa!" She breathed, "They're beautiful."

Her grandfather merely smiled in response, linked an arm round her shoulders, and guided her to her luggage.

* * *

The group of people congregated on the classic British day were dressed in black. The oppressive nature of their mood was reflected in the grey skies and pathetic drizzle. Women sobbed, men stood proud with shaking shoulders; and the girl in the middle of it all stood, with a blank face, and wished more than anything that she could be away from the drizzle, the noise, the crying. But as she laid the single red rose on the mound of dirt where her parents were buried, she knew, that despite the hurt, the pain and the seriousness of her situation: there would always be a light at the end of a tunnel, and hers loved her and cherished her more than she could ever hope for.

* * *

Beila Conway-Caine stood anxiously in the row of students, her hands fiddling with anything the could reach, the hem of her pleated pinafore, her ponytail, the little piece of green thread on her blazer that was coming loose; if she could see it and reach it, it was fair game.

"Conway, B!" The sharp voice of her former science teacher called out.

Ha! Former, that was a very common word around here today: in the excitement of the moment, the jubilee of the envelope being torn open. How Beila would love to be one of those people who could rejoice in the fact that that grade she had been panicking over was fine, and the stress and worry of the past few months was worth the A4 envelope in her hands.

Beila didn't think it would be worth the price she had paid.

But she had, however, made the conscious decision that she would open the brown envelope with her father, after all, he was her father, and he deserved to see the most important moment of her life thus far.

"Beila!" One of her friends called, with an overjoyed expression, but guarded eyes. "I passed!" She cried, hugging her. "This is excellent!" She cried again.

"Beila!" Another friend called out. "Over here!" Beila and her other friend walked over, and Beila was presented with a shiny box, covered in ribbons. She opened it carefully. Lying on the top was a folded shirt, with the emblem of the school on the left breast. In the middle was the phrase: "Have fun in Miami!" written in blue marker and then various messages from various peers and teachers written in their own distinctive scrawl. Beila felt the tears rising in her eyes. Underneath the folded shirt was a set of various envelopes, each one white, with her name written on the top. And underneath it all was a collection of little trinkets with two ribbons on: one ribbon corresponded to a friend and the yellow ribbon was the colour of Beila. She smiled widely at her friends.

"Thanks, you lot." She said as she hugged them.

"That's okay." One answered after the group hug was finished.

"Just don't be a stranger!" Another added.

"And tell you Dad to expect visitors!" Laughed another.

"Funnily, he said you lot were all welcome in Miami, and that if he needed to, he'd bump up the number of unis to keep an eye on us!" Beila laughed.

"Aw!" The first girl cried, sighing dreamily. "He's already like a proper Daddy, protective and everything!"

"Conway!" Her biology teacher called again. "Your Grandfather is here!" She barked.

Beila looked at her watch. Oops. She'd been here way longer than she was supposed to. She turned to her friends and they shooed her off with a wave of their hands.

"Go!" They laughed.

"I'll talk to you as soon as I get there!" She waved as she left the hall, box and envelope in hand.

The drive to the airport had taken forever, and her grandparents had been quiet the whole way there, each reflecting the current events. As they stood at the airport gate, waving her goodbye, she saw the ghost of a tear on her grandmother's cheek.

The plane gained altitude, and Beila cast a look out of the window. The towns, cities and the people all became smaller as she left Britain, her parents, her friends, and became Beila Caine, of Miami, Florida. And part of her was glad.


End file.
